


So you want to die?

by orphan_account



Category: Elisabeth - Levay/Kunze, Elisabeth - Takarazuka Revue
Genre: Gunplay, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot, this is pretty much just self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 00:44:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15897450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It had to end like this.





	So you want to die?

**Author's Note:**

> Written with the 2018 Takarazuka production in mind: Tamaki Ryou as Death and Akatsuki Chisei as Rudolf.
> 
> I kept the character's male pronouns, but decided on going with what felt natural to me in regards to female anatomy, considering the fact that both of them are played by women in this production.
> 
> This was written within an hour at three in the morning, and was not beta'd. Please bear with any typos.

'So you want to die?'

And in that moment everything made sense. This was how it was supposed to end. This was how it had to end. Rudolf turned around to face his childhood friend, his year long companion - Death. Death, who stood there looking exactly the same as he did when he had first met him all those years ago. Rudolf, however, was no longer the young boy he was back then, having grown up but never grown loved; having grown up and having grown tired.

He watched as Death reached into his jacket to produce a gun, seemingly from thin air. As it was held out to him he shuddered, the sudden chill spreading in the room making his skin prickle in goosebumps. Yes, this was how it was supposed to end. How it had to end. He reached for it, stretching towards it and bridging the distance between them, impatient and giddy, ready to feel the weight of it in his hand, ready to feel the resistance of the trigger against his shaking finger. A cold hand wrapped itself around his wrist before he could reach his way out of this dreary existence, pulling him against a soft chest. Searching Death's face for an answer to a question he never asked to begin with, he was greeted by the usually expressionless face being pulled into a sneer. Rudolf's breath came in soft pants now, impatience briefly making him struggle against the grip before giving up. He should have known that things would not be this easy, he thought. There was no use trying to win a game he did not even know the rules of.

Rudolf stood there, motionless. His breathing was quicker now, excitement (or was it panic?) making his hands shake. The hand holding his wrist curled around his waist instead, resting against the small of his back, pushing his lithe body against Death's. In an absurd moment of clarity Rudolf noticed the absolute lack of movement of that broad body. No breath. No gentle rise and fall of the soft curves of his chest. The closer the two of them were, the more he was convinced he was breathing twice as much to compensate. 

His hands were still shaking. The gun was still there, just out of his reach, held above their heads. He was growing more and more impatient, and with it dizzier and dizzier. Just when he thought his legs might give out beneath him he felt Death steadying him, gently guiding him towards a wall. Leaning against it, Rudolf lifted his hands before dropping them to his sides again, unsure of what to do. What was he supposed to do? What was the next turn in this game? He closed his eyes, waited, ... sighed when he felt the gun press against his temple. This is it. He held his breath in anticipation, waiting, but nothing happened. This was how it was supposed to end, wasn't it? 

He gasped as he felt the cool metal being dragged down his cheek instead of making the final move in their game. His restless hands tried to find support; he smoothed his fingers over the embellished sleeves of Death's jacket, clumsily burying his digits in fistfuls of fabric. It, too, felt cool. It was a welcome distraction from the heat bubbling up within his chest, rising up and threatening to choke him. Opening his eyes seemed an unmanageable feat now that the gun was moved down his neck, grazing the skin there, before nestling under his chin, tilting it up. When he dared to open them he was greeted by the slightest hint of a smirk on Death's face. 

Rudolf felt a hand moving up to the closings of his shirt, deftly unbuttoning it and revealing the white expanse of skin beneath it, and a shiver ran through his body as he was exposed. His panting was even more obvious now, his chest free, and his nipples starting to perk up. Death leaned forward, crowding him against the wall, dragging his teeth against the skin of Rudolf's neck - all warmth drained from his hands and rose to his face as his cheeks flushed. A sigh dripped from his lips as Death moved his hand to Rudolf's chest, splaying the fingers to fondle his breasts. Rudolf opened his mouth, trying to breathe, trying to say something, trying to ask something, trying to get an answer out of the other man. The thoughts and questions, however, escaped his mind as he felt the weight of the gun press itself between his lips, clanking against his teeth. He tried to move away from it, but there was no way, no space, pinned to the wall like a pretty butterfly. He started panicking (or was it excitement?), briefly struggling against the sudden vice grip on his waist before realising that there was nothing he could do. 

This was how it was going to end, right?

A choked whine fought its way out of Rudolf's throat as he opened his mouth to accommodate the barrel of the gun. Tears sprung to his eyes as he felt the cold, heavy metal glide further into his mouth, swiftly warming up as he closed his lips around it. The sight was scraping the roof of his mouth, but he had little time to think about the discomfort as a cool thumb circled his nipple, flicking the hard nub. He keened as he was assaulted like that, clever fingers rubbing and pinching his sensitive flesh. Death's mouth was back on his neck, biting red marks into his scorching skin; cooling them with his icy lips. 

The gun was lazily moving in and out of Rudolf's mouth, keeping him grounded, keeping up a steady rhythm while his body was haphazardly played. The fingers clutching at Death's sleeves found their way to his shoulders; one of them fisting itself in Death's long locks, deliberately pulling on them as long fingers were gently grazed down Rudolf's side, making him arch up into the barely-there touch. Rudolf opened his eyes. Was Death affected by this at all? His pale cheeks did not give away the slightest hint. Rudolf looked at the long lashes of Death's downcast eyes, followed the crooked slope of his nose and stared at his lips. 

He was distracted from his musings as a strong leg slid between his, grinding at Rudolf's centre, and Rudolf let out a strangled moan as his hips involuntarily bucked up to meet the movement. He moved his hips against Death's leg, grinding down, but that paired with the slick wetness pooling between his clothed legs provided little help to satisfy him. He shivered as Death wrapped his hand around his hip, guiding his movements, dissolving Rudolf into pitiful sounds and unintelligible pleas for more, faster, there. The gun's sight was beginning to rub his mouth bloody, the telltale metallic taste mingling with the taste of the barrel in his mouth, as suddenly the gun was removed from his mouth and stashed away; two hands were on his hips now, holding him closer. 

Stray tears ran down Rudolf's red cheeks, and as he looked up into Death's face he saw him run his tongue over his lips, the faintest hint of excitement on his high cheekbones. Rudolf gasped and leaned his head back against the wall as a cold hand snaked into his trousers and down his undergarments, between his hot thighs, fondling his dripping folds. He was close. Two fingers slid easily into him, moving inside him, making Rudolf's breath stick. Death curled his arm around his waist, holding him close again, buring the tip of his cold nose behind his ear, and Rudolf had little time to prepare himself for the wave crashing down over him, a laboured moan making his lungs burn as he came. 

To calm down Rudolf took several deep breaths. This was how it was supposed to end. He almost scoffed as Death removed his sticky hand from his trousers and started butting up his shirt again. This was how it had to end. He detangled his fingers from Death's white curls, still somewhat breathless, reaching into his jacket to retrive the gun. He stared at it, heavy in his hand. A cold hand curled around his arm, lifting the gun to his head; the other hand held his cheek, wiping away the wet tracks of his tears, touching a thumb to his swollen lips. Death's face seemed less pale now. Rudolf closed his eyes, their lips finally met, and it ended how it had to.


End file.
